


The Silent Candle Burning

by tersa (alix)



Series: Mass Effect:Carpe Diem [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Implied past dubcon, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Other, Past Character Death, Post-Game(s), Synthesis Ending, crack theory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 03:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3366887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alix/pseuds/tersa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Reaper War is over. Weapons have been laid aside, and although the <i>Normandy</i> has put in for an emergency landing on a far away, unknown planet, the process of recovery has started throughout the galaxy in the wake of Synthesis.</p><p>For Steve Cortez, recovery is on the personal level, mourning the loss of a loved one for a second time as a result of the war. But as he grieves for Shepard, he gets news that knocks him further into a tailspin...but a chance for hope as well.</p><p>Envisioned as the epilogue to my "<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/405779">Carpe Diem</a>" collection of short stories written to take place in-game, feel free to skip this one if the Synthesis ending or potential interpretations of dubcon (thanks to a crack theory) aren't your cuppa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Silent Candle Burning

Steve sat in the cockpit of the shuttle, looking out the view screen to the doors of the shuttle bay beyond, fingers thoughtlessly stroking the smooth glassiness of the control panel.

He couldn’t be there when they put Shepard’s plaque on the memorial wall.

The QEC had been the first thing they’d gotten back up and running after the crash--well, after survival essentials. With the physics involved, it had been no problem receiving the messages from Admiral Hackett’s command vessel, even though neither side knew at the time where the hell the _Normandy_ was in the galaxy.

The war was over.

Both sides had put down their weapons and were working together to start the rebuild process.

Shepard was nowhere to be found.

Steve knew, as certain as he’d ever been of anything, that these events were related. They had Admiral Hackett’s last communication with Shepard, where it was confirmed Shepard had been on the Citadel. Not long after that, the energy beam had fired from the Crucible, touching everyone and everything and causing...this. For the hundredth time, Steve looked at his hand, turning it over and over, and marveled at the green sheen coruscating across his skin. The Alliance had informed Alenko, now the acting captain in Shepard’s absence, that the effect had coincided with the immediate cessation of hostilities. After the allied forces had re-taken the Citadel, crews had found the bodies of Admiral Anderson and The Illusive Man in a strange part of it no one had ever visited. Blood traces and other DNA evidence spoke of Shepard’s presence there as well then....nothing.

He wanted to hope. With no body, it might just be he hadn’t been found yet, in another part of the Citadel that hadn’t been cleared out yet, in a hospital or refugee camp, unidentified.

He also recognized it was a foolish dream born of his heartache. Somewhere, deep down, he _knew_ that Shepard was behind the change that had touched everyone and everything, from humans and hanar to the Reapers and EDI.

Above him, the rest of Shepard’s command crew were adding the names of Admiral Anderson and Commander Shepard to Ashley, to Mordin, to Garrus and Tali, but Steve couldn’t do it. He thought of the Citadel Memorial Wall--of his recording of Robert--and wondered what had happened to it after the Reapers had taken it over.

“ _Don’t make me an anchor. Promise me, Steve._ ” The words were Robert’s, but Steve heard them this time in Shepard’s voice, not pleading and urgent as Robert had been, but gentle, with a hint of teasing, like Shepard was when he was no longer the Commander and it was just the two of them. 

Had been.

He wasn’t ready to make that promise yet. He hid in the place that had been his refuge back then, back before Shepard had drawn him back into the world, back to life, back to love, remembering all the times he’d taken Shepard into hell, all the times he’d brought him back out again, and once, their last shore leave together, making love in the back flying on autopilot through the Citadel traffic.

Outside, he heard activity and stirred--a repair crew coming to do more work, and Vega’s voice calling out something muffled. The memorial was over. With a final long caress to the control panel, Steve unfolded himself from the seat, wincing a little at the stiffness from sitting in the position he had for so long, and crept out of the shuttle to go up to the crew deck.

When the doors to the lift opened, he froze, momentarily unable to move forward. The memorial wall was right there, smacking anyone getting off on that floor in the face with the reminder of everyone they’d lost. The two new plaques were not in the columns on either side of the Alliance logo but in the middle, larger in size and font, unable to be missed. The doors beginning to close again broke Steve from his paralysis, and he stuck his arm out to halt the closure. The doors ground open--something the repair crews would need to take another look at once more critical systems were back online--and Steve exited, approaching the wall with equal parts dread and morbid curiosity.

Commander Shepard.

Seeing it seemed to make it more real and touching it--Steve lifted his hand and put his fingers to the plaque, running the tips over the etched characters as if to imprint the feel of Shepard’s name on his heart.

“Lieutenant Cortez.”

Liara’s voice intruded on his mourning, and Steve stepped away quickly, as if caught doing something he should not have been. Hastily, he swiped the tears from his eyes with the edge of his sleeve and tried to regain his composure. “Dr. T’soni, I was just--” At a loss for how to finish the sentence, he simply stopped.

Liara was looking at him with compassion but made no gesture to comfort him, which he was grateful for. “I’ve been hoping to speak to you, in private,” she said. “I...do not wish to impose on you, though.”

Steve frowned, mind racing as he tried to figure out what she would have to speak to him about. Of all the members of the crew outside of Steve, she might have been considered ‘close’ to Shepard, having been working with him longer than anyone other than Alenko, Joker and Dr. Chakwas, and both were--had been--biotics. She’d been on Shepard’s team on the push to the Conduit, but like everyone else, had been evaced out, not there for the end. She and Steve had never had a relationship beyond professional courtesy, had never, as far as he could recall, ever spoken privately about anything.

Interest captured, he nodded. Taking that for assent, she turned and walked to the XO room she’d appropriated long ago as her office and quarters. Steve trailed behind, silent.

Her office, like the rest of the ship, had seen better days. The once impressive wall of screens was all but destroyed, only two or three surviving the hard landing or being appropriated for materials for use elsewhere. But he wasn’t there for the decor, something he was reminded of when she turned to face him several paces away, her hands twisted together before her. The pose made her seem vulnerable and oddly young, something he rarely thought of when dealing with asari. “I am not quite sure how to say this,” she began, hesitating before asking. “How much do you know of asari reproduction?”

The question, coming out of left field like that, unbalanced him. “Uhm,” he said, scrambling for a more coherent response. “Not much. I know you can...have children with any species. That’s about it.”

She nodded thoughtfully, accepting his answer, and hesitated, looking to one side, away from him. “On Earth, at the forward operating base before the last big push for the Conduit, I...gave Shepard something. A gift. A gift he freely accepted.”

Something about the direction of the conversation rang a tiny alarm bell in Steve’s head, making him feel unsettled and wary. “What gift?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of challenge.

“My people have a way to join our minds with others. I have done it before, with Shepard, after he came into contact with the beacon on Eden Prime and again after finding the cipher on Feros. I offered that to him again, on Earth. It is a great intimacy for my people, a sign of deep feeling and close bonds.” She spread her hands out before her. But I will admit I had another motive for it.” Before Steve could ask, she answered. “It is also a way in which asari reproduce, recombining our genes while joined with a partner.”

It took a few moments for Steve to process through what she said, not the least of which because he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The incredulous, shocked laugh he finally gave was mirthless. “Are you telling me you’re pregnant? With Shepard’s child?”

Relief flooded her demeanor and voice. “Well, _technically_ , according to asari physiology, it is not Shepard’s the way most species trace lineage. His genetics are not involved.” At Steve’s growing glare, her enthusiasm wilted. Squaring her shoulders in the face of his disapproval, she finished with, “But as the asari count these things...yes.”

As the situation was clarified, Steve felt crushed. _Betrayed_. All the fine details and nuances she’d made to clinically describe the process were lost under the tidal wave of that emotion. He couldn’t even speak. Everything he wanted to say was cruel, anger, rage, and he retained enough self-awareness to know none of it was appropriate.

Instead, he turned on his heel and walked out without saying a word.

* * *

The shuttle wasn’t isolated enough to hide in. He left the ship, climbed the rough path that had been cut into the side of the mountain near where the _Normandy_ had come to ground, and gained the summit, a popular vista point that Steve was grateful, at that moment, was unoccupied. There, he all but collapsed to a seat on the hard ground, brought his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his knees, and hugged them.

Shepard would have liked this place, Steve was sure of it. Shepard had been raised in space, on various stations throughout the galaxy, but he’d born on Earth--it had been important to his parents that he was, Shepard had explained--and the times he’d visited his grandparents and relatives planet side were the stories that held magic in them when Shepard had told them to Steve. The earth in his hands. Weather. Sunsets, such as now, sinking in the distance behind the jungle foliage in bands of red and green and purple. Space was where he lived, where he worked, but places like this unnamed, unknown planet is what had driven Shepard to stay there, to find places like this. To protect places like this.

Steve loosened one arm from around his legs to drop towards the ground, fingers curling into the matted greenstuff and hard ground beneath crushed by the footsteps of the crew over the last few weeks. His mind wanted to shy away from what Liara had said, but also couldn’t avoid it.

Liara was having Shepard’s child.

Immediately, he thought of her caveats, but almost as quickly brushed them aside, focusing on his feelings about it. If she was to be believed, there had been no sex involved. Steve couldn’t imagine Shepard would have done _that_ to him, the end of the world being nigh or not, even if, logically, there would have been time or opportunity. Which there couldn’t have been. He struggled with setting that aside.

So then it was...what? Intimacy. She’d used that word to describe this...’gift’. That hurt, that Shepard had chosen to do that with her, but...was he so selfish that no one else was allowed to be Shepard’s friend? Ever? No, he thought, and shook his head along with it. He didn’t begrudge Shepard his other friendships, although this spoke of a closeness Steve had no inkling had existed.

That left the child itself, and thinking of it caused the grief to well up and flood through him. He tasted the bitterness. Liara had this... _thing_ , this _life_ , that was from Shepard, that Steve wasn’t a part of. He recognized that part of his reaction stemmed from, the human drive to be a parent and to share that with the person he loved. Shepard and he had never gotten that far in their discussions, always looking at the ‘here’ and ‘now’ and ‘the next day’ and sometimes as far out as ‘next week’, but they didn’t talk past the end of the war, not like Shepard had with Ashley. It was something unspoken that neither had violated, so no matter that Steve had occasionally caught himself thinking wistfully of the future, of asking Shepard to marry him, retiring someday and maybe having some kids...

None of that was ever going to be, and Shepard’s only child would be an asari.

Gravel crunched heavily, and Steve again quickly wiped his eyes clear of the tears he hadn’t noticed had accumulated, blotting his nose on his sleeve before Vega came into view over the edge of the summit. “There you are, Esteban. You weren’t at mess and someone said they thought they saw you coming up here. Hey,” he said, shifting into concern when he caught sight of Steve. “you okay?”

Steve’s laugh in response was brittle. “No, Mr. Vega, I am not.”

Without invitation, Vega plopped to the ground next to Steve and pulled a bottle out of a leg pocket, offering it out. Steve looked at the label. “The good stuff? You know once we run out, it may be a while before we can get more.”

Vega grunted noncommittally. “Seemed like the day for it.”

The reminder caused Steve’s attempt for a neutral expression to slip, his face contorting briefly at the sudden spike of pain. With more effort than was strictly necessary, he unscrewed the cap and said roughly, “True enough.”

They drank in silence, passing the bottle back and forth, watching the alien sun sink and darkness to creep into the sky. As the last rays dimmed, leaving the sky speckled with stars in unfamiliar configurations, Vega asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

For a short time, Steve didn’t reply, debating whether he wanted to answer at all. He felt it eating at him, though, knew how difficult it was going to be to go back down to the _Normandy_ and face Liara like this. Tersely, he gave Vega the abridged version, that Liara had done something asari with Shepard and now she was going to have a baby.

“Wow, man,” Vega said, sticking the bottle out to Steve, who accepted it gratefully and took a long drink. “So--if you don’t mind me asking--what does she want out of you?”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, feeling unaccountably disgruntled by the question.

“I mean--” Vega spread his hands out expansively. “She made a point to tell you. Why?”

Steve rubbed a finger across the bridge of his nose, scrunching up his eyes irritably. On an empty stomach, the tequila had gone straight to his head and he was feeling mentally slow on top of tipsy. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask her. I was just pissed at her, you know?”

“ _Yo comprendo, amigo_ ,” Vega said. “It’s gotta be tough to hear something like that.”

“It was.” He felt the prickle beginning in his eyes again and switched to rubbing them to stop it. “Fuck. I’m tired and I’m drunk. I should probably get back to the ship so I can pass out.”

“Probably a good idea,” Vega agreed. He got to his feet none too steadily and offered a hand to Steve to help him up, putting a second hand out to Steve’s shoulder when he swayed into him. “Man, you weren’t kidding. You going to be okay going down that path?”

“’M fine,” Steve lied. “Just, go in front of me, just in case.”

“You got it.”

* * *

Steve felt it the next morning, the combination of hangover and no dinner making the headache and malaise worse. Almost everyone avoided him at breakfast--everyone except Vega, who was uncustomarily quiet either out of some unspoken respect for the previous night or hungover himself, and Joker, who, recognizing Steve’s plight, made up for Vega’s politeness by being overly loud.

He wasn’t sure who he was more grateful to: Vega for not adding to his misery or Joker for treating him like everything was normal instead of with kid gloves.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that the worst of the hangover symptoms had subsided and he’d finished up work for the day that he sought out Liara. He buzzed the door to her office and received a “Come in” when he identified himself, the door hissing open to reveal her at a table with a datapad in front of her and Javik half turned to look at Cortez over his shoulder with his normal expression of disapproval. “Lieutenant,” he said by way of curt greeting.

Cortez nodded, but looked to Liara. “If this is a bad time...I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“No, not at all,” Liara said, quiet but business-like. “Javik was just doing me the honor of allowing me to take some notes about the Protheans. I appreciate your time,” she said, turning to Javik. “I’d like to talk more with you later.”

Javik nodded sharply. “As you say,” then turned to depart.

Steve watched him go, not moving until Liara’s second, “Why don’t you come in, Lieutenant?” prompted him to once again step into her domain and the door to close behind him, giving them some privacy. This time, she seemed at greater ease, more confident professional than the nervous woman from the previous night. “What’s on your mind?”

“Two questions,” he said slowly, having had all day to think about them in light of his conversation with Vega the night before. “First--why did you do it?”

The blunt question seemed to startle her, her eyes going wide. Steve caught a flicker of something crossing her expression, although she smoothed it out just as quickly as it appeared. “I guess that is a fair question for you to ask,” she murmured, which he suspected was temporizing. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “You know about the time capsule project I did a few months ago, yes?” At Steve’s shake of the head, she elaborated. “A few months ago, I created a number of packages full of all the information we had on the Reapers and the Crucible and....Shepard,” she said after a pause, casting a sidelong look at Cortez for his reaction, which was mild, a mere quirk of an eyebrow in vague interest. However she read that, she continued with, “I sent those out in the galaxy to all the planets with pre-sentient life in the hopes that if we failed to stop them this time, the sentients of the next cycle would be better prepared than with what the Protheans left us.”

“Pardon my ignorance, ma’am, but what does that have to do with _this_?”

Liara pursed her lips and, again, brought her hands together in front of her with twisted wrists. “Hubris, I guess. Not long after I sent the capsules out, I began to realize there was a very real chance that I might live to see the end of the cycle, but you humans--“ She stopped and cast another questing look at Steve. “--might not. In hindsight, it may not have been the wisest decision.” She grimaced faintly, but went on doggedly. “But, at the time I made the offer, I was thinking it would be nice to preserve more of Shepard than just data, just in case, even if it wasn’t the same as if he had had a biological human child. Maybe sentimental, as well,” she admitted.

Steve shook his head, and more started than asked, “You don’t understand how that sounds to a human, do you.”

“No?” she asked, puzzled. “What does it sound like?”

He ran a hand over his face and stopped with it covering his mouth, before dropping it back to his side. The anger he’d felt the previous night was there again, burning in a low simmer that could easily flare up if provoked further. “I don’t think I can explain it in civil terms right now. You’ll have to ask someone else.”

As if stung by his words or his tone, Liara’s back stiffened. “Very well. What was your second question?”

With a rasping sigh, he echoed Vega’s questions, feeling grief and bewilderment welling up as he thought them. “Why did you tell me? What do you want from me?”

Her expression softened, hearing his tone, and she half turned away from him to look down at the datapad on the table, fiddling with it. “By asari standards, I’m fairly young, only one hundred and nine.” She sniffed ruefully. “I know that sounds old by human standards, but to me, it is very young. I was raised by my mother and never knew my father. At least, not until a few months ago, when Shepard convinced me to go talk to her.” She spun the datapad clockwise forty-five degrees, then again. “It wasn’t until then that I felt like I had been missing something in my life, listening to her talk about my mother, my krogan grandfather.” She smiled, mentioning that. Then, it faded into wistful melancholy. “I do not know what I would have done if Shepard were alive right now. If I would tell him. This was a decision I made, and Shepard’s involvement was...opportunistic.” She grimaced and looked over to Steve. “But now, in light of what has happened, I wanted you to know. I wanted to preserve even this little part of him, just in case, because he was my friend, my _best_ friend the past three years, but he was more than that to you. I understand that. It is...my gift, to you, that I would very much like you to be a part of her life if you want to be, in whatever capacity you wish.”

Emotions assailed him, threatened to drown him. He felt like a hand had reached into his chest and was crushing his heart, so profound was the feeling of grief that overcame him. He turned his back on her, unable to face her, although this time, didn’t leave--not yet at least, pressing his fingers to his face and feeling the tears fall while simultaneously trying to pull himself back together. She waited in silence for the loss of composure to pass, only small, fidgety sounds betraying her presence.

With a ragged exhale and a wet sniff, he scrubbed his forearm across his face, feeling shaky but able to face her again. He turned to see her face ducked, peeking up at him shyly from beneath her brows, and waiting on him.

“I--“ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, taking another moment to collect himself further. “I’ll have to think about it.” He considered continuing, but then snapped his teeth shut, unable to.

She nodded, sympathy evident in her expression. “I understand. You--we both have time.”

He nodded to her and turned to leave, pausing at the doorway. “Dr. T’soni,” he started.

“Liara.”

He cast her a look and shook his head, denying the familiarity. “Thank you for your honesty.”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” she said, a touch bleakly.

He left her office, in search of James.

* * *

He found Vega in the Lounge, playing poker, which is generally what Vega did most nights especially since they’d come to land on this world. Wordlessly, Steve joined the game, Alenko and Joker moving aside to give him room at the table, and they played until Alenko finally tossed his cards down. “I’m out. Time for me to hit the hay, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, Boss,” Joker grumbled, hopping stiffly to his feet. “Such a taskmaster.”

Alenko rolled his eyes and said, “Good night,” to everyone.

“Night, Major,” Vega said, scraping the cards together and to tap them back into a deck. “Night, Joker.”

With another grumble, Joker limped out, leaving Steve and Vega alone. Steve began to collect the chips and return them to the rack. “I talked to Dr. T’soni.”

“Oh?” James inquired conversationally. “And?”

“She said she wanted to give me the chance to be part of...” He trailed off, unable to bring himself to say the word yet. Instead, he shrugged, continuing to methodically put away chips.

Vega didn’t say anything immediately in response, sliding the cards into their box and folding the flap down, then started picking up chips as well. “My father was a real asshole. After my mother died, he started taking red sand. Used to make me have to buy it for him because he couldn’t do it himself.”

“Shit, man,” Steve said, somewhat grateful for the shift in focus off his own life. “I’m sorry.”

It was Vega’s turn to shrug. “Just sayin’. _Mi tío_ , Emilio, was more like a true _papá_ than Josh was. If I hadn’t had him and _mi tía_ , I’m not sure what would have happened to me.” At Steve’s uncertain look, Vega said, “I’m just thinkin’--Doc’s kid’s not going to have a father. It sounds like she’s asking you if you want to be an uncle. Or a godfather. Fuck, I don’t know how asari do these things,” he said with a chuckle. “Just might be worth thinking about.”

“Maybe,” Steve said, starting to do just that. They finished stacking the chips in silence and put the case away. Before reaching the door to leave, Steve stopped and said, “Hey. Thanks.”

A corner of Vega’s mouth curled up in a half-grin. “Anytime, _amigo_.”

* * *

It was another week before EDI announced the _Normandy_ was repaired enough to be space-worthy Plans were made through the QEC to rendezvous with a Sovereign-class Reaper ship capable of greater speed than the _Normandy_ ’s FTL drives, with the relays still under repairs. “That’s going to take a lot of time to get used to,” Alenko mused over their poker game the night before their departure, to which the rest of the table agreed.

The journey home took a while, slowed by the need to find hospitable planets along the way to replenish their supplies. By the time they made the rendezvous point, the crew was grateful to see the huge ship through the view screens, rippling with the same greenish light that touched them, against the blackness of its hull and space.

“Damn,” Vega said, sounding impressed, standing next to Steve at one of the views, and, silently, Steve agreed with him. It somehow made whatever Shepard had done, his sacrifice, seem more real.

Steve spent the time focusing on his work and avoiding Dr. T’soni. Whether she was avoiding him as well or sensed his, she kept her distance, which he appreciated.

* * *

The made it back to Earth months after they left, to a planet in the process of rebuilding. Within a day of arrival, they received invitations to another memorial for Shepard, this time at the park created in London at the Conduit, complete with statue and a bronze plaque. “The galaxy needs its closure, too,” Hackett told Alenko, who had relayed it to the crew. “We’ve been waiting on the _Normandy_ to do it.”

“Explains the escort,” Joker had commented. Everyone had been giving Steve furtive looks at the news, and, not wanting to discuss it quite yet, he’d excused himself and returned to his bunk.

“Lieutenant Cortez,” Traynor’s voice came over the comm. “There’s a call coming in for you from the _Chennai_.”

“For me?” he asked, surprised. He couldn’t think of anyone who might have been calling from that ship.

“Yes. You can take it in the communication room, if you’d like.”

“Thanks, Traynor. I’ll be up there in a minute.”

He walked into comms, returning the on duty ensign’s salute as he approached the console. The ensign’s fingers flew over it, bringing up a projected holo of an Alliance admiral, a woman Cortez didn’t know.

“That’ll be all, Ensign,” the woman said in a voice of easy command. The ensign saluted the holo and left the room, leaving Steve alone.

Steve saluted as well, and the woman’s demeanor softened. “At ease, lieutenant. This is a personal call.”

“Ma’am?” he asked in confusion, a moment before recognition slammed home. His tone became apologetic. “I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

Hannah Shepard smiled faintly. “Thank you. But I might say the same to you.”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Thank you. Ma’am.” After a pause, he added, “Is there something I can do for you?”

She chuckled. “Yes, there is. I’d like to meet the man my son was in love with, if you don’t mind, before the memorial tomorrow. Would tea be okay? Coffee is still in short supply.”

Nervousness flashed through him. He smiled to cover it up. “It would be an honor, ma’am. He spoke of you often.”

“Hmmmph,” she intoned dubiously and straightened again. Now that he knew, he could see Shepard in her mannerisms, and felt melancholy. He guessed she was trying to cover her own emotion with the gesture. “Skip the uniform. I’d like for this to be informal. I’ll send you details and a car to pick you up. Shepard out.”

The projector dimmed, which was okay by Steve, because sorrow had seized him anew at the familiar sign off.

* * *

Later that afternoon, the car whisked Steve, dressed in civilian clothes for the first time in months, as she requested, from the shuttle port off to a decapitated structure--the sign identified it as Brown’s Hotel--in the process of being rebuilt by reapers and humans working side by side. The sight unnerved him, the first time he’d seen the phenomenon in practice. Changed or not, it was going to take getting used to.

Admiral Shepard was already at a table when he arrived, dressed in slacks and a tailored jacket but with the ill at ease demeanor of someone for whom it was not the usual attire. She straightened when she spied Steve but did nothing so crass as to wave him over, waiting for him to join her. She stood when he did, offering her hand out to shake, and Steve noted she had a firm, authoratative grip, not surprising given her rank. “Mr. Cortez--”

“Steve,” he said, risking interrupting her. “Please, call me Steve.”

She smiled at that, and some of the stiffness relaxed from her posture. “Steve, then. You may call me Hannah.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Admiral,” Steve said carefully, trying to avoid insulting her, “I’m not sure if I can do that quite yet.”

“Please,” she protested with a face, “don’t call me ‘Admiral’. Not now,” she added softly. “Would Mrs. Shepard do?”

“Yes, ma’am. If it’s okay to call you ‘ma’am’,” he said hurriedly.

Her laugh was low and rich--a nice laugh. “At ease, fly boy,” she said teasingly. A wistfulness stole into her expression. “This is a personal visit.”

At the reminder, some of Steve’s discomfort faded. “I know, but...” he trailed off.

“I know,” she echoed in reassurance. She re-took her seat, made a gesture for Steve to take the one opposite her, then signaled the waiter. “It’s hard like this,” she said as the waiter made his way over to them. “We’re strangers to each other.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve agreed. The waiter arrived and they put in their order--real tea, he noticed on the menu, was incredibly pricy, so he opted for a less expensive herbal and noticed that Mrs. Shepard did the same. After he left, Steve laced his fingers together and leaned his elbows on the table. “But he _did_ talk about you.”

“Good things, I hope,” she said, then sighed. “I know about you, obviously. He wrote a couple of times after I was reassigned to the Crucible project and mentioned he’d met you. I could read the rest between the lines.” She smiled, but there was lingering pain in it, the same pain Steve lived with every day. “You were the first person he’d ever mentioned in the romantic sense. He’d assured me he’d dated some, but he was intensely private about some things, even to me. I took naming you as...significant.”

Her words mingled with his knowledge of Shepard and left him momentarily unable to respond, overcome by emotional reaction. He recalled Shepard’s quiet reserve when they first met, and how difficult it had seemed for him to begin opening up to Steve, the effort it took to tell him about Ashley--a person he hadn’t even told his mother about, from what she just said. He remembered towards the end, how at ease Shepard had been with him, joking, teasing, able to talk about anyone and anything. With a shaking hand, he reached for the water glass but forced himself to take a deep breath before lifting it. He sipped it, finally saying, “I guess it was. We didn’t know each other very long, but it was intense. At least from my perspective. I can’t speak for him.”

“You don’t need to,” she said quietly. The waiter brought out their tea in imperfect pots--another sign, in addition to the rebuilding outside, that despite the reputation of the place and the attempted veneer of normality, that they’d been hit hard during the war--along with a plate of tiny sandwiches and other hors d’oeuvre then disappeared again. She poured for herself, and he noticed her hand was none too steady, either. “If you don’t mind, how did you two meet?”

Over tea and the light meal, he told her--at least the highlights, of how he’d been a requisition officer during the retrofit of the _Normandy_ when Shepard had commandeered it to leave Earth in the wake of the initial attack, how he’d become the shuttle pilot responsible for taking Shepard in to the hot zones, of Robert, and Shepard’s compassion in getting him through the loss of his husband, and how through that friendship and their shared experiences, they’d fallen in love. She listened avidly, her eyes bright from tears that occasionally fell, to be quickly wiped away and replaced again. It was obvious to Steve how much she loved her son, but bore the loss outwardly even better than he did. Interspersed in his recounting, she talked a little about Shepard’s childhood, some things Steve had heard, some things he hadn’t, more memories to cherish.

When they’d finished, Mrs. Shepard waved off his attempts to pay his share of the bill with, “I have an admiral’s salary, I’m damn sure I can afford to buy you a tea as thanks for this afternoon.” Once the bill was settled, they exited the building and stood on the sidewalk waiting for transport back to their respective quarters. She turned to him, surprising him by laying a hand on his forearm, and gave him a direct look. “Tell me--did you make him happy?”

Blood rushed to his cheeks at the personal question, but he dipped his chin. “I’d like to think so, ma’am.”

“And did he make you happy?” she asked softly, the green glow turning the incipient tears luminescent.

“Very much so,” he said, almost unable to speak for the lump in his throat.

“Good.” She sniffed, and blinked back the new tears. “I was always worried about him, so wrapped up in his career. Not that I wasn’t proud of him, I was, but parents--they worry about their children, not just their safety, but also their happiness. I always hoped he’d find someone someday, settle down, maybe have a family and make me a grandmother.” The corners of her mouth curled into a tiny grimace. “I’m glad he finally did find someone--I’m glad he had you,” she corrected herself, and looked at Steve. “At least there, at the end.”

Her words had unsettled him far more than they should have. He liked her--not only for being Shepard’s mother, but also her as a person. If he would admit it to himself, he would’ve liked to have had her as a mother-in-law, if things had worked out that way. But what she said, it reminded him of Dr. T’soni, and he flinched. At the change in his expression, hers turned concerned, but before she could speak, he blurted out, “If you have time, ma’am, there’s someone I think you should meet, back on the _Normandy_.”

“Oh?” she intoned, but her expression was intensely curious.

He nodded, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “Yeah. Just--if you come back with me, I’ll introduce you.”

Her eyebrow arched up. “Very well. You have my interest.”

* * *

Hannah Shepard found him down in the hold of the _Normandy_ about a half an hour after he had introduced her to Liara and left her there to talk, intruding on his run of diagnostics on one of the shuttles. Her eyes were reddened, but she was otherwise composed. She looked at Steve with compassion when he stood up from the pilot’s seat and turned around to look at her. “Lieutenant--Steve--thank you.”

He ducked his head, embarrassed at the heartfelt gratitude in her tone. “It was nothing, ma’am.”

“No,” she said, stepping through the open door and closer to him, “it wasn’t.” She lifted her arms and put them around his neck, pulling him into a hug that surprised him, and, helpless but touched beyond measure by the gesture, he returned it. For a moment, he teetered on the verge of control, almost succumbing to the heartache that welled up and threatened to drown him, but he held on, held her, finding comfort in the moment of shared loss.

She stepped back and sniffed, inhaling a deep, ragged breath, but she was in control again when she blew it out, ending in a wan smile. “Thank you for meeting me today. It will make tomorrow easier, I think.”

“Agreed,” he said, rubbing his eyes to clear them. “I’m glad I finally got to meet you in person.”

“The same to you,” she said, giving his hand one last squeeze before stepping away. “You _will_ be sitting next to me tomorrow. Be prepared for that.”

Watching her slip her command back on like a mantle made Steve smile, although it was less subtle than when her son did it. He saluted in the same convivial manner. “Yes, ma’am.”

She left the shuttle and the bay, leaving Steve to look around the small space, nostalgia a bittersweet emotion as he raised his hand to run it across the ceiling in a fond gesture that he realized was anthropomorphizing it. Shaking his head to shake off the notion, he hopped down to head up to his bunk.

* * *

The second memorial for Shepard at the London park was almost as difficult as Steve expected, but having Hannah Shepard there with him helped more than he expected. When he’d joined her on the podium, along with the rest of the _Normandy_ ’s command staff and Shepard’s primary squadmates, she’d embraced him again, essentially granting him recognition of special status where public perception was concerned, then took his hand and held it throughout the entire ceremony. It certainly helped him maintain his composure in the face of all the cameras capturing the speeches by the leaders of the allied forces paying tribute to him and the reactions of the principle people on stage; he wasn’t certain it wasn’t all for him, given the strength with which she gripped it at times, but outwardly, at least, she was the stoic career military woman.

By the end of the ceremony, he was emotionally wrung out and wanting to get back to the ship and normality. Mrs. Shepard hugged him again and said, “Keep in touch,” before she departed, back to the _Chennai_ he assumed, and the rest of the _Normandy_ crew returned to the ship to decompress.

On the way out of the lift on the crew deck, Steve broke his silence to say, “Liara, do you have a moment?”

Liara’s head jerked around in surprise--the first time he’d addressed her past mere courtesy in months, other than introducing her to Hannah Shepard the previous night--but then recovered her equilibrium. “Of course, Steve,” she replied, noticeably using his given name as well. “My office?” At his nod, she led the way.

When they arrived and the door closed behind them, she asked, “What can I do for you,?”

“I--” He paused, searching for words. What he wanted to say was more difficult than he’d expected, even after rehearsing it off and on over the past day. “I’m not going to apologize for my reaction before to what you told me, that you’re,” another half beat pause, before he could say, “pregnant with a child that for how you count things is Shepard’s. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, and talking to Mrs. Shepard yesterday, and the memorial today...” He took a deep breath and spread his hands out, palms up. “I’d like to try. To be involved somehow. If the offer is still open.”

The small smile she gave him seemed pleased. “It is. And I want to let you know--I did what you suggested and asked someone else about how what I said to you about it sounded to a human. Kaiden was...very informative,” she said, cheeks turning faintly purple, and ducked her head, abashed. “I had not realized how deeply taboo the ramifications of such an action would be interpreted by human society. It is I who should apologize, to you. If I’d realized how wrong it was to humans, I would not have done it.”

He nodded, acknowledging the apology but not quite ready to wholly forgive her yet. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, now that we’re back,” he said, shifting the topic back to safer ground. “Hell, I don’t know about anything anymore, given what’s happened.” He lifted his hand to watch the green light shift like iridescence over his skin, before dropping it. “But let me know, and I can try to figure something out. How, ah, how long will it be? Before--you know.”

She smiled impishly at him. “Some time yet. We are a long-lived species, we do not hurry anything. But I promise, I will let you know.”

* * *

The time came, several months later, with enough warning that both Steve and Hannah were able to fly to Thessia for it. Steve, now rooming with Vega during their deployment on Earth, brought him along for moral support, something Vega was more than happy to do. “It means I’ll get to see Thessia again as something more than the bombed out mess it was during the war. I’m cool with that.”

When it actually happened, neither Steve nor Hannah could be present for it, but they were allowed to wait in a room outside. Hannah, bemused by the turn of events, said “I can understand this,” she said, looking around the structure, out the window to Thessia’s sky. “Even though both his father and I loved living in space, when it was time to have him, I went home, to Earth, to be among our people.” Steve realized, then, where Shepard had gotten it from, the foot in both worlds.

Time passed, and Hannah wiled it away telling stories of what it had been like for her when she’d had Shepard, the fear they’d had after her accidental exposure to eezo during a reactor leak when she was stationed on the _Prometheus_ , before she knew she was pregnant, the minor difficulties and foibles of her pregnancy, and their relief when he’d been born healthy and whole. “The strangest thing happened, though. No sooner had they put him in my arms than a butterfly flew into the room. A gorgeous, blue thing, it circled in the air and then landed on his arm, its wings opening and closing gently as it rested. I think we were all so stunned we just let it happened. Then it took off and flew back out again.”

“That is strange.” Something in her tone suggested to him that this had more meaning to her than simply ‘strange’, but he felt reluctant to ask her what she meant. Before he gathered the courage to do so, an asari nurse came through the door and looked at them. “You may see them now.”

For someone who had just given birth to a baby, Liara looked remarkably...normal. Steve guessed it was the difference between human and asari childbirth. The bundle in her arms was the similar, though, a blue face peeping out of the swaddling of a soft blanket. Hannah got to her side first, an asari midwife, Steve guessed, getting out of Hannah’s way to allow it, and she smiled down at the baby. “She’s beautiful. Have you decided on a name?”

“Lucen,” Liara replied promptly, then explained, “In our mythology, Lucen was the helper of the goddess, Athame, who taught us to go to the stars.” She looked from Hannah to Steve. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Me?” he replied, startled. “I would think Admiral--Mrs.--“ He stumbled to a stop as Liara stretched her arms out towards him, and he saw little choice than to take Lucen or to risk offending one or both of them deeply. He did so gingerly--he’d had little exposure to infants and never to anything other than adult asari--but fortunately there didn’t seem to be much to it at the moment. Lucen had her eyes open and looked up at him, and he noted that her eyes had the same greenish glow as everyone else did, even as a newborn.

“You’re a natural,” Hannah murmured, grinning as she looked on, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a little bit foolish as he cradled Lucen in the crook of his arm, settling her closer into a more comfortable position. He found himself, from some instinct, he guessed, searching her face for some resemblance to Shepard, disappointed but unsurprised to find none. But, neither did she look like a clone of Liara, even in miniature so that seemed like something.

Despite himself, he felt a sense of growing wonder at this tiny person. Shepard’s impact on the galaxy was something that every single sentient being was affected by, from the end of the war to the changes that had been wrought to them by the beam, but this...this seemed more personal. More special. He finally seemed to comprehend the motivation behind Liara’s impulsive decision, and although the hurt would leave a scar, it would heal. He made his peace with it looking in Lucen’s unfocused gaze.

After a few minutes of reciprocated study, he offered Lucen up to Hannah, who took her gladly to begin talking to her in bright undertones, introducing herself, and being altogether very unlike what he’d experienced with her before. The midwives came in wanting to do some additional checks, and Hannah went with them to supervise, adamant, this time, that she _would_ be present and they could deal with it.

Liara leaned back into the pillows behind her, showing some signs of tiredness after all, and Steve fidgeted awkwardly, attention torn between the activity at the far side of the room and Liara equally torn between it and him. “She is cute,” he offered, trying to fill the awkward silence. “I don’t have much to go on where asari babies are concerned.”

“Neither do I,” Liara said with mild amusement. “I guess we will both be learning.”

“Liara--I just wanted to say...thanks. For having me here. It meant more to me than I realized.”

She reached out and squeezed his forearm. “Thank you for being here. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “For the first time in a long while...I think I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few, both for lore and additional explanation if people are curious:
> 
> \- The additional ships named in the piece in connection with Hannah Shepard are not canonical; I fabricated them for this narrative.
> 
> \- The butterfly I had in mind for Hannah's story about Shepard's birth was from [this photo of a Red Spotted Purple Butterfly](http://www.trekearth.com/gallery/North_America/United_States/South/Virginia/Vienna/photo455605.htm). It's inclusion are for reasons relating to my headcanon. It's significance can be found [at this link](http://www.abovetopsecret.com/forum/thread511143/pg1), but means "a transformer and a symbol of metamorphosis; everlasting life. "
> 
> \- The title of the piece is from the poem "[The Holy Longing](http://www.wind-of-change.co.uk/GoethetheHolyLonging.htm)" by Johann von Goethe. When I was flailing around for something to capture the spirit of what I thought was going on in the piece, I landed on this. I feel like the entire poem really speaks to the experience Cortez has gone through, or would go through, from getting over his grief for Robert to losing Shepard again in the Synthesis ending.
> 
> But you have to just keep reaching out for love, regardless.


End file.
